But, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First, to “review the bidding,” as it were, Round Top is a modest area on Route 100, the so-called “Skiers’ Highway” which runs up the middle of the Green Mountains. Opened in 1964 on an old farm, right smack in the shadow of mighty Killington, it has a vertical drop of about 1,300 feet and perhaps 20 slopes and trails, counting all the cross-overs. It also has precious little snowmaking and with Killington devouring every flake which comes by, Round Top simply didn’t get a lot of snow over the last few seasons. Well, for most of the last decade, as long as we’re counting.
In 1976, a Boston financial firm, Atlas Capital Corp., foreclosed on its loan to Paul Goldman, who owned Round Top. A month or so later, Atlas sold the area to Goldman’s son David. He tried a real estate sales program based on a modification of the existing “Killington-Pico” image and advertised the “Killington-Pico-Round Top” region, obviously hoping to ride Pres Smith’s coattails in attracting skiers.
However, caught without enough capital to underwrite either the real estate development or the snowmaking, Round Top was hammered when the snowless winters arrived three years ago. Ironically, just as he was beginning to expand, and had secured a management contract at Haystack, just down the road from, of all places, Killington’s “sister” operation at Mount Snow in southern Vermont, Goldman now found himself getting whipped at two areas. There wasn’t enough snow for either Haystack or Round Top to operate, much less just one of them. He had no equity investment in Haystack and that contract lapsed in 1981 after two dismal seasons. Haystack, owned by Associated Mortgage Investors of Florida, did not operate last winter.
Last fall, four creditors, hoping to get as much as they could of the $18,000 which was owed to them, forced Round Top into bankruptcy proceedings. A judge ordered the area to liquidate. “Hey, I’m trying, I’m trying,” indicated Goldman, who said Round Top had been quietly for sale for quite some time. The asking price was $1.1 million.
In mid-November, Goldman testified under oath before a bankruptcy hearing and some fancy financial footwork came to light. The Small Business Administration told the court that Round Top, which was operated by The Plymouth Corp. (the area is in Plymouth Union with Killington just to the west and the Calvin Coolidge Homestead just to the east), listed assets of more than $360,000 when it applied for a disaster loan in 1980 after the non-winter of ’79-80. Round Top got its 100-grand. Now, though, Plymouth Corp. listed its assets as $69,000; Goldman said it would take him a while to figure out where the other $300,000 had gone.
In response to a question, he conceded, “Nothing went by the way of general business practices over the past two years.”
(Cue the “William Tell Overture.”)
Out of the West, and right into the middle of all of this, strode a stranger. From Goldman’s viewpoint, he was wearing a white hat and passing out silver bullets; he’s to be forgiven today if he figures the stranger is also wearing a mask.
The stranger, who identified himself as J. W. Steadman, said he wanted to buy Round Top. Goldman, who had told the bankruptcy hearing there were more than a half dozen mortgages on the area—including a couple placed in recent weeks—was cautiously pleased. It was somewhat like the scene from “The Graduate” where the older man takes Dustin Hoffman aside and says the magic word for the coming decade is “plastics.” Only in this case, the Texan whispers “Timesharing.”
“Timesharing, will be the salvation of this poor, downtrodden ski area. We’ll tap its potential. We’ll attract families to this family ski area. We’ll bail out Mr. Goldman, an honorable man, I’m sure,” the Texan seemed to say. “We’ll provide smiling faces and joyous vacations to untold, uh, dozens of vacationers … and I may even find a few farthings to keep for myself. Timesharing, son, that’s the answer.” Was it the Lone Ranger or Prof. Harold Hill?
He flashed a business card at one local reporter who dutifully wrote a couple of pieces about this timely Texan and his outfit called Interval Resort Marketing Group. His card said Granbury, Texas, but just say Dallas, the Texan said. Everybody knows Dallas.
The reporter quoted the Texan describing his firm as a “major corporation in the timesharing field” and said it had annual sales over $18 million. Okay, so maybe he’s not Trammell Crow or one of those other bigtime Dallas dee-velopers but, by Vermont standards where $100,000 condos still are celestial in price, 18 mil was pretty impressive. No questions were asked, it seemed; the Texan had the quotes, and repeated them for those taking notes slowly, and they were printed.
Example 1: “We now have enough security so that we can execute our ownership at any time we choose.”
Example 2: “We’re going to be here for a long, long time.”
My, my. How time flies when you’re having fun. That “long, long time” may have scooted by in less than one winter.
Last December, SAM was unsuccessful in tracking down the Texan. Goldman said he didn’t have a phone number for the Texan. “I hear from him—he calls me—but I couldn’t tell you where to reach him,” he said. And the Texan’s lawyer of the moment said pretty much the same thing. “He’s registered at the Tavern Motor Inn in Montpelier, but I never can get him. If you reach him, ask him to give me a call,” said attorney Richard Smith of Rutland. He said closing papers on the proposed Round Top deal had been drawn up since mid-November, “but I haven’t heard from him (the Texan) for 10 days.”
Telephone calls to the business and real estate editors of the Dallas Times Herald, Dallas Morning News and Fort Worth Star-Telegram as well as the Texan’s reputed hometown paper, the weekly (Sunday, circulation 4,000) Hood County News in Granbury, produced nothing. No one knew of him or his $18 million company, which reportedly sold timesharing to someone somewhere sometime.
Goldman, acknowledging the Texan held the cards (and possibly some greenbacks) in this deal, said simply, “I hope we’ve got a deal.” The Texan’s white hat suddenly began to look a little gray, maybe even a shade or two darker, upon closer examination.
Goldman finally heard from the Texan again and they put together what each felt was a good deal. Goldman breathed a little easier, figuring he had just slipped an anchor off his neck. The Texan must have figured he somehow had found the motherlode. And Happy New Year to each of you.
The Texan scrambled to get the area reopened for the holidays. While other Vermont areas did well—records for Killington, Mount Snow, Stratton, Pico, Stowe Sugarbush and Burke Mountain, among others—Round Top continued to muddle along. By early March, a handwritten sign said the area was closed for the rest of the season “due to weather and poor skiing conditions.”
Perhaps the snow had something to do with it, although just about every Vermont area was open well into April, fully a month beyond Round Top. Maybe, though, it was the legal storm which hit the Texan.
Somewhere along the line, authorities in Texas located him and claimed he allegedly bounced a check for $11,800. Vermont authorities alleged he had bounced a $5,000 check for equipment rental from a local firm. There also was a misdemeanor against the Texan in Florida, authorities said, but the Sunshine State wasn’t pressing for extradition so no one got excited about that possible infraction. Vermont’s labor officials also got involved, investigating reports Round Top had bounced checks —the final checks of the winter—for some employees, and some staffers didn’t get paid at all.
And Goldman jumped back into the stew, claiming the Texan had not maintained the “minimum weekly payments” as agreed to in their deal, so he, Goldman, was sueing to evict the Texan from the ski area. The Texan, now looking like “Six-gun Steadman” with both legal barrels blazing, said phooey. I paid my money and I’m staying right here on the spread. Round Top is mine. And, he went on, I’ve got a couple of other law suits up my sleeve. This thing isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot… or words to that effect. It was clear a legal shootout was underway at the Round Top Corral.
Alan G. Thompson, lawyer for the Texan, told SAM a legal reply had been filed in connection with Goldman’s suit. He claimed Goldman had “maliciously and deliberately interfered with the operation of Round Top… very complex issues … they agreed to sell… it’s weird… possible bankruptcy fraud involved… an extremely complicated matter … extremely complicated … the U.S. attorney has been informed of this matter…”
Thompson predicted the litigation would be long. “I think it will be extremely dragged out, both in Windsor (Vt.) Superior Court and maybe in several different forums…”
Goldman, who said he wasn’t concerned about whether the Texan was having trouble cashing checks, said his part in this operetta was clear. The Texan didn’t pay, so he lost his chance to buy Round Top. On top of that, he wanted $50,000 from the Texan in damages for allegedly damaging the bankrupt area’s credit rating.
“We talked about a lot of stuff that he was going to do; he wanted to buy the whole mountain and he would put in snowmaking, and this and that. He had agreed to the million-one price and we had a deal, but it was a week-to-week license,” according to Goldman.
“He didn’t have title to the property. He had a license, just like a ticket to the movies. If he paid the money, he could operate another week.” The Texan apparently paid weakly instead of weekly.
“In the end, he didn’t pay us so he relinquished his license,” Goldman said. “I think my lawyer was very smart in setting it up that way because we’d have lost the area and the money. Now, though, it’s very clear. Steadman didn’t pay so he lost it. We never got anywhere. The mountain is still for sale and we hope to sell in time for a new owner to be ready for next winter.”
Meanwhile, Steadman (the Texan) still trying to peddle timesharing despite the legal snafu—moved off the property and began the summer living in a house without a telephone across Route 100 from the area. The house is next to a home owned by Goldman’s parents.
